The moon shines over the forest,
Lighting the paths for us.
It’s quiet and calm, as here I rest,
Peacefully in my den.


In the peace, I faithfully wait,
As my pups run about, playing.
Soon he’ll be home, their father, my mate.
With game for us to eat.


In the distance I hear a howl,
In excitement, I reply.
Gunshots fire, I hear a growl.
I stiffen and fill with fear.


I gather my pups, hide them in the den.
I whimper at them to stay,
In the den, remaining hidden.
Then I sprint towards my mate.


I hear him whimper, I hear him cry.
I feel my heart break.
They hurt him, they did, but why?
He only wanted to feed his family.


I smell gunpowder and the blood,
I am quickly nearing them.
I silently run through the mud,
I can hear his laboured breath.


The man with the gun walks up to him
I pounce in between before I think.
I growl and snarl, I try to scare him.
He just laughs away.


He lifts up his gun, and points at me,
Then I hear a screamed, “No!”
Into the clearing runs a girl of eighteen,
Pushes the man and takes the gun.


She points the weapon at the man,
Yells to get off her property,
And to never near a wolf again.
A shot, then the man takes off.


She approaches us carefully and
Calls her friend to bring First Aid.
I step aside as my mate tries to stand.
She soothes him back down.


This girl is different, I can feel.
I can’t help but trust her.
Next to me, she does kneel.
Stopping my mate from bleeding.


We waited a while for her friend,
And as we waited she comforted me.
“He’ll be okay, this is not his end.
I will make him better.”


Into the clearing, comes a young man,
Not much older than her.
With a white box in his hand,
He walks over to us.


She takes the box, removes its contents,
And they start working away.
Over my love’s body, they are bent,
Cleaning away the blood.


She calmly whispers to me,
“Go to you den, your  cubs are waiting,
Your mate is safe with me.”
I hesitate but I run to my pups.


My pups whine and whimper,
And it feels like forever later,
I hear the girl’s voice, barely a whisper,
“It’s okay, boy. We’re almost there.”


She comes to the den,
With my mate close behind.
I leave the den and greet them.
My mate is back, he’s okay.


The girl and the boy
Come every so often,
They take care of my love,
They make sure we’re okay.


I wish there were more people like this,
To make sure that we aren’t massacred off.
To protect us when we can’t protect our self.
To make people see we’re not bad at all.